Graduation Requiem
by superalicat
Summary: "This was Kaori Miyazono's requiem, but he wasn't going to make it a sad one. Not if he could help it." At graduation, Kousei remembers the time he spent with Kaori and dedicates a song to her. Spring is coming, a season for goodbyes and new beginnings, a chance for Kousei to start anew and live for the girl who left him behind.


Title: Graduation Requiem

Characters: Kousei, Tsubaki, Watari

Words: 2672

 _Requiem: noun, an act or token of remembrance._

The cherry blossoms were just starting to open when Kousei Arima was first asked to play the piano for a very special purpose.

"But what would I even be playing at graduation in the first place?" he asked the principal. He hadn't realized he'd become that well-known among the administration, but, then, after the competition in February…

And now it was nearly two months later, and he was being asked to play on a stage once more. Though his future was already set, and he'd accepted having to play in competitions once more, a public function like this was something he'd never played at before.

"How about we leave it up to you?" suggested the less imperious vice principal. "You have until graduation day to decide, if that's the case."

There was no room for him to argue his way out of it. He was, after all, a piano prodigy. They probably assumed that he could think up what he wanted to play on the spot.

But Kousei, being Kousei, was pretty much frozen where he stood at the prospect of playing piano at his own graduation without knowing what to play. There were so many options, so many pieces he had learned, written for so many different purposes, that he didn't know where to begin. And even though this wasn't a competition, where he wouldn't get to play again if he messed up, he would probably ruin a lot of people's memories if he did. So, with the added pressure to make graduation something people would actually enjoy, Kousei, the former machine of a piano player, was short-circuiting.

On one hand, Tsubaki was worried about him, since he'd never done anything like this before. But, on the other, she was a little relieved. It was coming close to a year since he'd first met the violinist who had changed his life, and especially because she'd passed away not that long ago, she'd expected him to be a lot gloomier than he was at present. She remembered their first and second years of middle school all too well, after all, when he'd completely given up and had accepted the monochrome world that had taken over him. Now, at the very least, he had something to be excited about.

But there was one more thing that had her worried. She'd seen glimpses of a small white envelope that Kousei had been carrying around with him for quite some time now, ever since he'd gone to the grave for the first time. She knew who it was from, and worried about how Kousei would react to reading it. She was dying to go up and ask him if he was okay, but the recent tragedy would always come up in the back of her mind whenever she tried, reminding her that death was something that scarred the living, its unwilling victims. Tsubaki had remained silent the entire time, but on the inside, she was still concerned.

Watari, knowing how worried Tsubaki was, also felt reassured at the sight of a bewildered and apprehensive Kousei. He'd remained cheerful and by Kousei's side even as February vanished into March, but he'd been looking out for some sign of depression in his best friend. So he kept laughing and reassuring Kousei that whatever he chose to play would be fine as preparations for graduation went underway. Even Tsubaki smiled at her two friends messing around, knowing that she wouldn't be around them for much longer, that she had to enjoy being with them while she could.

Graduation day finally arrived, and Kousei was a ball of nerves as he entered the gym with the rest of the third-years, all of them proudly wearing the corsages that indicated that this ceremony was truly for them. Everyone else was excited, waving at their teachers and family members that they had invited to the ceremony, but Kousei was still going over possible pieces he could play in front of everyone. It would probably have to be a recent one, something he could still play using muscle memory, because he hadn't brought any sheet music at all.

He was so nervous that he didn't hear the principal's address to everyone, nor the one from the class representative. Finally, his name was called, and his legs moved of his own accord, taking him up to the stage and directly in front of the piano that had been placed there.

"And now we have a special performance by Kousei Arima, who will be continuing his education at—"

But he couldn't even hear the words by then. Sitting in front of the piano in his school uniform had brought back a rush of emotions, as he recalled their first—and some would say their only—performance together. He could still feel the sensation of the lights and the cheering of the audience and being near her, of course, standing beside her to take their bows after going head-to-head with her on stage moments before. He remembered it all: leaping into the river with her, practicing with her in the music room, carrying around bags and stuffed animals for her, watching her sitting on a bench on the roof of the hospital…

The principal finished introducing him, no doubt with lavish praise about his musical abilities, and he seated himself before the piano, the same one from the music room he'd used time and time again, and he knew what he wanted to do. Kousei knew that, out of everything he knew, there was only one piece she would want him to play for her. It was the only piece she'd ever played back for him after he once had for her, after all. It was right there, etched into his memory, along with her love for sweet things and her ability to get along well with little kids. He remembered the sound of her voice as she sang along to it with such clarity, even though it had been weeks and weeks.

Now he was no longer worried about what he would play. She was right there all along, guiding him, inspiring him, until he reached greatness.

Kousei realized that he really was the kind of genius he'd known his teachers would expect him to be—he'd just thought up what he'd wanted to play moments before the performance. Placing his hands on the keys, he knew that he was ready. He could play if he had her there with him.

The piece started slowly and calmly, a series of simple notes—the simplest ones, after all. They were some of the first any aspiring pianist had to learn. The students seated in the audience began to whisper among themselves, some confused and some entertained. A couple of giggles reached his ears: they were listening to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" at graduation? What were they, elementary schoolers?

But he could picture her reaction to it just now, the way the corners of her mouth would curl up into a slow smile before she would burst out laughing with delight. In fact, he could even imagine her singing along to it, and, before long, she'd have the whole graduating class doing the same. If she were here, she would have looked back on her middle school graduation with fond memories.

Tsubaki had arrived at the same thought too. She glanced up at the stage, at the dark-haired boy playing the piano, wondering how he would react as he remembered that there was someone missing from all of this.

Though he felt a touch of bitterness and longing for her to be there, Kousei continued to play. This was Kaori Miyazono's requiem, but he wasn't going to make it a sad one. Not if he could help it.

Even though this piece had a quick tempo, with its bright melody, every note seemed drawn-out and calming. They were all for her, each one containing a memory or a piece of a conversation, and even his audience knew how much he was pouring into this simple piece. The melody touched the hearts of them all, even if it was childish, and the whispering and laughter had died down, to be replaced by an awed silence as they took in the piano prodigy's performance. And Tsubaki and Watari, who had known Kaori the best out of the rest of them, could almost hear her joyful laughter as the song continued.

In no time at all, the piece had ended. His hands lingered above the keys for just a moment, the sound of his performance ringing in his ears, before he stood up before the audience. There was a shocked silence so pronounced he could hear his own breathing. And then—

Screams and cheers reverberated through the gym, as both graduates and parents expressed their overwhelming feelings for what they had just heard. He got to his feet, and the applause only grew. It was just like what he had experienced after their first performance together, with the sound of the audience replacing the lingering notes in his ears, hundreds of hands being struck together and culminating in a rush that he still remembered from back then. Before he went back to where the rest of the third-years were sitting, Kousei had to stop for a moment to take all of it in, how this performance would be etched into everyone's memory, how, just maybe, he would now be able to live inside someone else's heart. Just as she had wanted to.

When it was his turn to return to the stage for the last time to collect his diploma, Kousei turned back and faced the audience for a moment. He could see Watari and Tsubaki waving at him from their seats encouragingly, and even Hiroko, who had somehow managed to squeeze into a seat in the back with her daughter Koharu next to her, was watching him with a smile on her face. He accepted his diploma and began to head back to his seat when he heard someone clapping, not exactly loudly, but encouragingly. It was Tsubaki, who had stood up and was grinning over at him a few rows away. Then Watari added in some loud cheers of his own, and Hiroko and Koharu joined in, and before long, all of his classmates were on their feet and applauding him once again. Someone called out, "Encore!" even though he'd long finished playing the piano, but everyone was still clapping and giving him a standing ovation.

 _It's not me you should be thanking. It's all because of her._

Eventually, the applause stopped, and he sank back into his seat, a little more flustered than he had been when he'd first stood up. He watched the rest of the graduates receive their certificates, smiling for Tsubaki and Watari as they came up to the stage, and grinning even more when Watari struck a silly pose as he came back to his seat. Even Tsubaki couldn't help laughing out loud at that, causing everyone on the softball team to look over at her with a kind of wistful annoyance. Their lives as middle schoolers were coming to a rapid close, and everyone was going to have to part ways. Everyone had accepted it, but now it was staring them in the face once and for all. It was all over…and it was all beginning anew, just like spring.

After the ceremony had ended, and Kousei was accosted by a half-crying Hiroko—he hadn't known she'd get this sentimental over his graduation, otherwise, he probably wouldn't have mentioned what day it was—he separated himself from the group that was celebrating and climbed up the stairs to the roof. It was where she had come up after him to convince him to play with her in their first competition, and even afterward he could still recall how he'd felt as he saw her break down in front of him for the first time. He hoped that, back then, he'd supported her enough and had shown her that there was more to him than being Friend A.

Sitting down, he pulled her letter from his pocket and opened it. He'd been reading the letter in bits and pieces ever since the cherry blossoms had begun to bloom, because he'd been a little frightened by it. These were her last words, really, and he wasn't sure he could handle all of them at once. But now, after his performance, he wanted to continue reading. He had just arrived at the part where she told him how their first encounter had come about. A single lie had brought him to her.

He leaned against the fence at the very edge of the roof, sat down, and began reading once more. He could hear her voice speaking to him through the written lines on the page, telling him how different he had been from who she had been imagining. And now she was stirring up more memories of the two of them together, just as his performance had, recounting the time they had jumped off the bridge, their nightly practices in the music room, dashing after a train at full speed, and, yes, even singing the very song he had just played on the piano for her. He could feel the emotions welling up within him as he read on, knowing that she, too, had carried those memories with her until the end.

 _To be so consumed by everything off-stage when I'm a musician…that just doesn't make sense, does it?_

But now, thanks to her, he knew what it felt like. Being around her had made it into a reality for him. And he was sure that the rest of the letter would resound with him just as this single line had. He had his whole life ahead of him to have even more experiences off-stage. He'd put off reading the letter so many times before, but he knew he was going to finish it today, just for her, and he would respond to it with every breath he took, every piece he played. He would keep living for her sake.

Because she hadn't been there with him, with the rest of them, as they left middle school behind, he decided to do one more thing in her honor. He would return to the place where the letter had been given to him.

Tsubaki, too, had felt the absence of a particular third-year throughout the ceremony. That evening, she went somewhere she hadn't been since February. She still remembered exactly which gravestone had Kaori's name written on it and stopped in front of it. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on something that had been left in front of it. It was a small, simple corsage, and it matched the one that had been pinned to her blazer just before the graduation ceremony. It must be Kousei's. He'd come here as well. With an infinitesimal smile, one that nearly filled her eyes with tears, she removed her own corsage and placed it next to the first. Now Kaori, too, had graduated.

She headed back home, knowing Kousei was probably on his way back from his piano lesson, wondering if, now, she could talk to him about everything. They had gone through something together, and so they could open up to one another about it.

At the railroad tracks, she spotted him. He was holding the envelope he'd had with him for days, the one that contained Kaori's letter. He pulled a slip of paper from it and was looking down at it with the same expression he always wore whenever anyone mentioned Kaori. But she couldn't avoid the subject any more than he could. She kept walking, crossing the tracks, until she was standing just before him, and at the sound of her voice, he looked up at her in surprise.

Just as she'd thought, he wasn't wearing his corsage either.

 _A/N: I know graduation episodes have been done tons of times before in other anime, but I really wanted to write one for this series as well. Just as an aside, the piece I imagine Kousei playing is the nine-minute Mozart version that was originally played in Episode 3. Feel free to look it up; I really like listening to it myself. Also, I'm not sure if the last episode was really showing Kousei reading the letter at different times or not; this is just my interpretation, since he seems to be reading it in a lot of different locations. The rooftop scene is definitely based on the part just before "Kirameki" starts playing and the very last scene is my interpretation of what happens before the very end of that episode. The rest is up to you. I hope you enjoyed reading my first Shigatsu fanfiction!_


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